New Age

Tracker

Sergeant Jackson looked at me for a very long time. It seemed like minutes passed as he stared me up and down. He turned around and took a packet of paper out of his bag and handed it to me. As I was looking it over, I could see him grabbing something else out of his bag, a small gun. He slipped it out of sight before I could see what kind of gun it was. He disappeared from my peripheral view and I assumed he was behind me. I waited until he stopped moving when I stood up and spun around to face him. I turned to stare down the barrel of the gun. It was one of the newer brands, the kind that shot small radioactive flameballs.

"What do you do?" His expression was completely calm as he challenged me.

I put my hands in the air slowly, as if surrendering. "I'm going to do exactly what's expected."

He lowered the gun slightly, like he wasn't expecting me to give up so easily. While his guard was down, I dropped to the floor and rolled myself at his legs. He fell, nearly landing on me. I pushed him down so I was on top of his chest. As I tried to strangle the gun out of his hands, the tip came dangerously close to my neck. His finger was still poised over the trigger. I threw myself off and backed up against the wall behind me. I crouched down as I wait for him to stand and regain his posture. When he was able to point the gun at me again, I launched myself of the ground and roundhouse kicked the weapon out of his hand. It skittered down the hallway, too far away for either of us to risk going after. When both my feet landed back on the ground I followed through with a punch in the face. It was as though his face was made of steel, the only damage I caused was a small slit on his lip, and possibly a fractured knuckle.

We continued to punch, kick, and dodge each other until he back me into the opposite wall. I was pinned between him and the hard surface. I took one of the man's arms and twisted it around so hard he fell face first to the ground, taking me, clutching the twisted arm, with him. Pinning him to the ground still while keeping my grip on the arm, I kick and pull at the wooden baseboard on the wall until a good size chunk came off. I gently pressed it to the back of his neck and sat back, triumphant.

I rose and fell as the sergeant took a deep breath. He flipped himself over so I was pinned to the ground under him. His face was inches from mine; I could feel his breath against my cheek. It's uneven and raspy, meaning I wore him out.

"You can stand up now, I've already won."

"But who's said you've won? How do I know you're meant to be a Tracker?"

"And how do I know you don't have a breathing problem?" I imitate his heavy breathing.

"Good point. Welcome to the unit, Tracker."

He's so close to me I can see every detail of his face. His hair is a dark black-brown shade. It was straight before our fight, but now it's rumpled. His eyes look like an icy blue color, but if you look hard enough you can see they actually are the gray color of ice. His lips were perfectly shaped, a thinner top lip with a slightly more full bottom lip. The color matched well with his tanned skin.

"You're a Clarian, aren't you?"

"That's none of your business. We have to get back to the ceremony now, or people will start to wonder if you'll ever end up with an assignment."

He stands up and offers me a hand. I go to take it, but instead I pull him back down to the ground. I walk back into the courtroom as he picks himself back up off the floor.

The courtroom was empty except for my party and the council members.

"Lyla has proven herself suitable for my unit. I've already given her the information she needs to begin training in a packet. Good day, councilmen." With that he leaves the room, and I flee back into the corridor where we fought. I had to grab the forgotten packet before my parents attacked me with questions and remarks. I close the door behind me and start to look for the packet.

"Looking for something?" I turn towards the voice and am surprised to see the owner, leaning casually against the wall, two training packets in his hand.